“Nowhere to run, Rarity!”
Rarity faced the dark wall, sweat pouring down her face. It ran into her eyes, stinging them, blurring her vision.
She was trapped.
“Help!” she shouted, banging on the wall with a forehoof. “Somepony, help me!”
“Oh, nopony’s coming to help you, Rarity.”
The dressmaker froze, and slowly turned around. Before her stood her pursuer. A straight mane covered half of a psychotic smile, a knife clutched in her jaws.
“Pinkie, please! Why are you doing this?”
“Sorry, I can’t tell you!” the pink mare cackled. “It’s a se-cret!”
Rarity was hyperventilating as Pinkie walked towards her, the smile never leaving her face. Slowly, she backed up against the wall, leaning as far away as she could manage. It didn’t matter, though. She was doomed.
Tears streamed from her eyes, a mixture of terror and sweat. Pinkie removed the knife from her mouth with a forehoof and pushed her face right up to Rarity’s. Her bloodshot eyes were unnatural in their madness, and she let out hot, heavy breaths against the unicorn’s face. “I just have one more question for you, Rarity.” The way she said the name made Rarity shiver. “Do you know what that question is?”
Rarity clamped her eyes shut and shook her head lightly, silently begging for it to end.
“What does Marsellus Wallace look like?”
And just like that, they snapped open again. Pinkie looked completely normal, no longer holding a knife, with her hair poofy as always. She sat a metre away, with a pout on her face. She looked like she was trying to be serious.
Rarity, understandably, was completely baffled, both by this turn of events and the question. “What?”
Pinkie pouted harder and grabbed the dumpster next to her. With a grunt, she flipped it over her shoulder and towards the entrance of the alleyway. “What country are you from?!” she demanded, in an unusually deep voice.
“W-what?”
“‘What’ ain’t no country I ever heard of! They speak Equus in What?”
“... What-”
“Equus, motherbucker, do you speak it?!”
“Y-yes!”
“Then you know what I’m sayin’?” Pinkie had stepped up to her again, and raised an eyebrow menacingly.
Rarity gulped. “Yes!”
“Describe what Marsellus Wallace looks like!”
“But what-”
Pinkie pulled a silver tray from behind her back. It was covered in pink cupcakes, cherries placed delicately on every single one. She hefted it threateningly behind her head, poised to throw. With her other hoof, she pinned Rarity to the wall. “Say what again! Say! What! Again, motherbucker! I dare you, I double dare you, say what one more got-damn time!”
“Pinkie, I have no idea what you’re-”
But before she could go on to explaining her cluelessness, and pointing out the fact that Pinkie had gone completely balls-to-the-wall crazy, the actual wall right beside them exploded in a shower of awesome.
Behind the inexplicably smoldering bricks and sparking awesome, a dark, yet awesome, shape emerged. This shape cast off its cloak of dust in a burst of awesome, revealing the source of this awesomeness. It was, duh-duh-duh, an ALICORN!
“Are the capitals really necessary?” Pinkie questioned. Rarity threw a bewildered glance at her, before returning her gaze to the-
“IT IS I! Bow before me, mortals!” a very awesome and sexy voice boomed. Rarity, for reasons unknown, felt a minor compulsion in her, telling her to-
“Eek!” she squealed, shivering, her face screwing up in disgust. “What the-”
“Yeah, I have that effect on mares,” the very awesome black and red Alicorn replied. Indeed, his appearance was as awesome as the innate awesome radiating from him. His mane shined an awesome bright red like lava, but not cherries, because cherries suck. His coat, in awesome contrast, was an awesome jet black. His awesome, and I do mean awesome, eyes were kaleidoscopic, constantly changing around his slitted pupils, reminiscent of a changeling’s, but more awesome. Much more awesome.
“And who, exactly, are you supposed to be?” Rarity asked, thoroughly curious about this awesome stallion’s raw animal magnitude.
“Why, I am Darklord Flamewing, Master of Awesome!” he boasted, rising up into the air and breathing fire, because why the fuck not?
“... Ooookay then,” Rarity responded, rather offput. Pinkie, however, took a different-
Holy shit, she just threw the cupcakes at the sucky OC. This is unprecedented.
“Take that!” she shouted triumphantly.
The really awesome alicorn frowned, and his eyebrows angled downwards menacingly. With a glow of his enormous horn - and I do mean enormous, fillies - the icing smattered on his face stopped existing, and the plate formed itself into a coffee cup, which he sipped. Menacingly.
“That wasn’t very nice, Miss Pinkie,” he boomed in his incredibly arousing voice. “In fact, it was rather rude. That makes me mad.”
Instantly, his mane caught on fire, as he rose into the air with apparently no propulsion. His eyes glowed with the fury of a sun, and his wings flared to the sides like something that flares out to the sides. “Now prepare to face my wrath!” he yelled, his voice echoing off the walls. His horn fired up, and... this is boring.
“OH FUCK!”
It seems that, in his over-the-top attempt to intimidate the mares, Darklord set his fucking coat on fire. Seriously, what kind of idiot lights their mane aflame? That’s just asking for trouble.
Anyways, with a decidedly unsexy squeal he fell to the ground and rolled about, attempting to extinguish the fire everywhere. Unfortunately for Mr. Darklord, however, he fell into a puddle of gasoline, and his frantic flailing actually caused him to immediately immolate, drowning his shrieks of pain with... well, fire. In mere seconds, he had roasted to a crisp, because the laws of physics don’t apply here.
Pinkie whistled, holding up a pair of shades. “Well, it looks like this guy was just...” she trailed off, placing the shades onto her face. “...too hot to handle.”
She immediately struck a pose, and Rarity could hear a distant scream of affirmation. Well, she sorta heard it, because she was cowering in the corner like a wimp. It seems her girly-girl mindset wasn’t able to handle ponies being roasted alive and the horror of bad puns. But then some hooves reached out of the wall, grabbing her and pulling her through in a horrible cliche.
With a squeak, she fell onto the floor. It didn’t hurt her, because she is made of marshmallows, but it stunned her nonetheless. With a groan, she picked herself up and found herself looking at Twilight.
“Why, hello, Rarity! So glad you could make it!”
“T-twilight?!”
“You’re just in time for the tea party!” Indeed, the unicorn sat at a small table, random stuffed animals holding small red and blue flags crowded around. Smarty Pants sat directly beside her, holding what appeared to be a sheet of yellowed, worn paper.
“What was that, Smarty Pants? Why yes, we do need to adhere to the original Constitution!” Her manic eyes flicked to Rarity, who backed away slowly. But she felt a tingling sensation, and was lifted up into the air, slowly floating towards the group. “Come on, Rarity!” Twilight shouted. “Together, we can rule the United States!”
Rarity, naturally, passed out like a bitch.
_____________________________________________________
“Rarity, you alright, man?”
Slowly, the marshmallow pony cracked open her eyes. She could feel the crusts flaking away, annoying her greatly. She sat up on the couch she was slumped on, and turned her head to find...
“Yeah, ‘Shy, it’s all good here.”
“Oh. Far out.” Fluttershy was, quite clearly, stoned out of her mind. Then again, so was Rarity. The bong they shared was on the table, and a fog was floating through the room.
“Whoa, ‘Shy, I had the craziest dream last night.”
“Really? Was I in it?”
“Ah, no, man. Sorry. But it was like, everything was all crazy, but I was totally clear.”
“Wow. That’s freaky.”
“Yeah.”
They sat there for a moment, staring into space, until Fluttershy suggested, “Hey. Do you wanna, you know, go back up to my room?”
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
And then they banged like a bomb.
